


Recipes to Raise a God and Other Tales from Hell’s Kitchen

by Nicole_Silverwolf



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:07:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28210662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicole_Silverwolf/pseuds/Nicole_Silverwolf
Summary: It takes a village. Especially within the House of Hades.A series of tales about growing up in the House from the perspective of the Lounge's head chef.Cooking meals for the gods wasn’t too bad all things considered. At least here they were useful.
Comments: 24
Kudos: 156





	1. Chapter 1

Life, such that it was in the House of Hades was far from the worst punishment imaginable. The head of the kitchen knew that with certainty. Shades passed through from time to time, sharing tales of stints in Asphodel or as fodder for the champions’ arena battles in Elysium. Many of the former spoke of an endless tedium that did not afford true rest.

Cooking meals for the gods wasn’t too bad all things considered. At least here they were useful.

The lounge hummed with quiet activity, punctuated by the sounds of knives chopping, stocks boiling and supplies being stacked in easy to reach locations. It was what the house kitchen staff considered to be the earliest hours of the day, when the constant stream of activity lulled the most. 

Even the flourishing knife work did little to distract them these days. But they worked diligently...despite gods not requiring food to survive, they somehow seemed to consume a lot of it.

A creak of cavernous doors swinging open had the head of every shade swivel in curiosity. If a few hands strayed towards their knives or the treat jar in anticipation of having to ward Cerberus off it was entirely understandable.

The last time the dog had slipped into the lounge the damage had taken months to clean up.

But it was not the hound of hell at all. 

Dressed down for the evening yet stunningly regal in a way that only gods could be, Nyx seemed to exude a calm that nothing could rattle. 

The room fell silent in her presence, shades bent deeply in deference. Night Incarnate was distantly severe in how she ran the house but never malicious. Only the newest members of the staff seemed to radiate truly fearful apprehension in her presence. Honest and straightforward, she had earned immense respect from each of them.

“Master Chef,” she intoned quietly, voice smooth like still water. “I am in need of something that soothes and I believe you may be able to assist.”

Cradled carefully in her hold was a small bundle.

A common site as she had many children; it was honestly hard to keep track of them all if the shades were being honest. Gods were simply like that the others shrewdly noted. But there was little doubt who this could be.

The shade never traveled far from their station (which provided an excellent vantage for overseeing everyone under their supervision) but they drifted to the goddess’s side as if Zeus’s lightning licked at their heels.

Drama was a hallmark of the gods. For the most part they left the shade population mercifully out of it. But it had been impossible to avoid the last devastating months, where grief had spilled over to both mortal shade and immortal gods alike. The death of the long awaited prince had shrouded the dreary halls in an inescapable and oppressive pall. 

The queen was a well loved member of the house and when she fled several weeks ago she seemed to take something vital with her. Lord Hades, always aloof, retreated from daily life. When he’d once ventured into the lounge for an occasional drink or a meal, now he never seemed to leave his chamber except for his desk. No one dared to pass by the god unless absolutely necessary.

Music was banned; construction as well. The once bustling halls felt more like a tomb than ever before.

Nyx had spent a long span of time  _ away _ . Sequestered in some pocket of space and time, the rumors had flown through the shade populace. She had returned only recently with a sliver of hope. Coaxing the dark coal of the babe’s feet into embers that flickered but did not go out had taken some monumental effort it seemed. 

Zagreaus...lived?...somehow. Dusa had explained (poorly) about a pact, a sacrifice, something regarding Persephone’s specific heritage and something beyond mortal understanding. Most of it had gone over the shade’s considerably tall head. 

The boy’s life was fragile though and while the godling clung to it with the stubbornness of a mortal, most in the House feared the Fates would not be kind. Hades would have no heir...that was _ Prophecy _ . It seemed foolish to hope that somehow the weavers had bent their ironclad rules. What should have been a time of joyous celebration seemed to drown in endless worries. 

The kitchen’s head chef had spied Hades during long late nights walking the halls of the house with the babe cradled in their elbow. Even now it was hard to parse the complexity of the expression the shade had glimpsed; a steeling for unfathomable grief and a desperate single minded hope tangled together.

It had felt like an insensitive invasion to look upon the Lord of the Dead in those brief windows. They kept their eyes trained to their work instead, only listening to the thunderously quiet pacing when it happened.

The thought lingered as the goddess spoke again...unaware of the chef’s wandering thoughts.

“The prince will not settle and I have exhausted all the methods that have worked for my own many children. I come seeking something that may help him to calm.”

The shade lifted their bright yellow eyes from the middle distance to peer at the godling wrapped in finely woven linens. The boy was small for sure, but they didn’t look as sickly or as fragile as the rumors had made him out to be.

Mismatched eyes roamed over the shade’s form, struggling to focus in the way that babies did. 

They remember faintly a long life filled with transgressions. Had they once been a chef to some great house in the world of the living? It was hard to say. Perhaps they had simply been skilled with a knife. A thief mayhaps, or a soldier...perhaps a butcher? Those histories were unimportant down here...rarely dwelt on. Their task had been set. There was nothing else to want or wonder about.

And yet in the instant when those bright eyes finally found their own, they knew without a doubt they had once long, long ago...been a parent.

Too young for much deep expression, Zagreus seemed tired in an ill defined way. The chef thought deeply on the conundrum while peering fondly down. What did children of gods eat? The child was not a newborn...at least not technically? And none of the children of Nyx had ever seemed to  _ need _ food. They enjoyed it certainly from time to time but didn’t seem to require it and often went months before searching out the kitchens at all.

Still this child was clearly different in some way. 

Something sweet mayhaps? But not ambrosia or similar…too much flavor for a child’s palette.

A half remembered taste came to mind in a flash of wondrous sensation.

With a raised hand they rushed back to their cutting board. There was a small basket hidden under their workstation which stored rarities found in the underworld. A red apple gleamed in the unending twilight of the room. They raised their knife with a flourish and tossed the fruit skyward. In an efficient instant the fruit was split into pieces suitable for tiny hands.

Nyx had settled onto a wide settee, holding court in her own way. She allowed the shades to peer closer at Zagreus with an indulgence she rarely displayed during the day. And while the smaller rounder spirits were careful--almost shy--they took turns inspecting the little one with unbridled, enthusiastic joy. It wasn’t every day that the shades were seen as anything more than passing ephemera around the house.

When the chef returned bearing their gift, the shades parted in the tall spirit’s wake. And when they offered the piece of fruit, the baby grasped it with the same fervor that the child clung to their existence. Fierce and sloppy and  _ alive _ . Zagreus didn’t know what to do with the slice but seemed determined to try until they crammed the apple in between small lips.

It was hard to tell if the boy liked it (at least he hadn’t spit it out or started to wail). But babies were easy to placate with food or sleep the chef remembered and it seemed the children of gods were not so different.

Nyx smiled with a kind of relief as the youngling quieted, drifting to rest with the half gummed slice of fruit still clutched in a sticky fist.

“He seemed unable to rest. I have had little dealings with children who need so much care. I thank you chef for your skill in this matter.” 

Humbled beyond expression the chef and their staff bent low. To serve the house was their task. To be praised for it was a pleasant bonus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello yes I did not even go here until a month ago what is happening…I may have reread Kitchen Confidential recently...who’s to say. Also I did not think I would write about a non verbal NPC and mythology I have never had **any** interest in but here we are. This game and fandom are super duper thirsty and I love it...but these are definitely going to be leaning to the fluff side of things.
> 
> Comments are always welcome. Thanks so much for taking the time to read.


	2. Chapter 2

The House of Hades had never been so lively as far as the resident shades could remember. Nyx’s children had been numerous but did not linger for very long after they entered the world. The twins and to a degree Megeara seemed to be the rarest of exceptions. 

Laughter and the chaos of childhood antics spilled into every room. Fearless and curious, the child gods spent their time anywhere they pleased, often under the care of one giant three headed dog. Cerberus was a different beast around the little ones--indulgent, tolerant and playful--in a way the chef could only remember the demon hound acting around Queen Persephone.

That wasn’t to say that a single member of the kitchen staff let down their guard. Shades were experts at using their limited tools of expression to maximum effect. 

“Chef! Chef! Can Cerberus come in today?” Hair, laurels and clothing askew, Thanatos and Zagreus looked like they had taken on a typhoon and lost. 

The master chef was sharp as they drew their knives up in a cross that clearly said NO ENTRY in any language. The smaller shades porting baskets about the lounge dropped their wares to do the same with their stubby appendages. It always did the trick. 

Bright mismatched eyes screwed up in mock exasperation. Zagreus was a happy child who never seemed deterred by anything.

“Sorry Cerberus. Maybe next time eh?” He tilted to press his forehead to the giant dog’s nose in apology before shooing the animal away. The beast rose to his full height and the many heads and eyes sharpened in a threat that quaked every staffer to their bones. 

Hypnos was likely sleeping somewhere (already well on his way to being a master at his task) and Megeara was off in training far from the grounds. A typical late afternoon as one could have in the House of Hades.

Tall though it was, Zagreus scaled the ornate furniture to sit on a stool and Thanatos floated to do the same with practiced ease. 

The bartender set out a quickly sliced fruit and glasses of juice that the boys dug in with gusto. Both children were deeply engrossed in a discussion that seemed to be very serious but also very nonsensical about the river that lapped at all shores of the building. The crew worked around them with barely a shift in pace, accustomed to Zagreus and Thanatos in a way that spoke of deep fondness and a familiarity with the routines of the lounge. 

“What are you making today Chef? Something delicious I hope?” Zagreus was peering at a sous chef carefully layering chopped vegetables in a pastry crust. The chef as always was chopping, deboning a fish with precise flicks of their blade. A large pile of fish sat to one side awaiting their expert attention.

“Can we help?”

It was a common question from the boy. He wanted to be anywhere that others were and was generous in ways that seemed unfathomable at times. Rumor had it that this open kindness was why the shade known as Achilles had begun to mellow since arriving some time ago.

The Master Chef considered thoughtfully. In truth there was no reason why Zagreus couldn’t assist. It wasn’t like their endless task would be lessened if an extra set of hands were put to work.

“Can we chop up the fish?”

Nyx had made it clear that the child was different and not quite like other gods but had never been particularly clear on the matter. Did it mean the god could be injured? Zagreus bled red blood (as he’d been proud to show off once the shock had worn off from a roughhousing session gone sideways). No one could fathom the possibility of testing the prince’s immortality any further.

Children did not handle knives to their recollection. The shade was quite sure that at least for the moment the prince was a child.

It was plain to read on their expression. Zagreus gave a dramatic sigh when rebuffed.

"Fine...but we can still help with other things right sir?”

A single smiling nod followed easily.

A staffer brought out a heaping bowl of peas to be shelled, easy enough for young children’s hands to manage. And if a few peas were mangled in the evening’s soup, no one would be the wiser.

Thantos had been intensely engrossed in observing the chef’s efforts; tiny hands mimicking the chef’s motions without conscious awareness. Too big for the child now, the scythe waiting in Nyx’s corner would be in expert hands when the time came.

Expression entirely too serious for what his age seemed to be in the chef’s opinion.

“Than! Can you help? There’s...a lot of these.” Already elbow deep and making a right mess of the work area Zagreus held out a handful of the green shoots to the other boy.

The question seemed to snap the other child out of it; a smile bloomed shyly across Thanatos’ face. “...alright.”

Both children were quickly engrossed in the task of shucking peas. They’d talked about the merit of the vegetable in general and then devolved into a competition on who could shuck the most.

“I wish Meg was here...do you know when she’ll be back Than?”

Thanatos looked thoughtful for a long moment. “Mother said she’s training far away in Asphodel. She’ll be gone often...because there’s a lot of things she has to learn about being a Fury. Someday she’ll be responsible for a lot of things...but she’ll come and visit. Just like me when I take over my domain.”

Zagreus was an enthusiastic employee making quick work of the pods. Thanatos was right behind, efficient to a fault and precise. While shades came and went all the time, Megeara had been a fixture in the House like Achilles and Orpheus or the chef themself. It clearly hadn’t occurred to the boy that that arrangement would or even _could_ change.

“Is your domain close by? How did you find out your task...did Father tell you?”

“I’m responsible for deaths...I think.” Thanatos shrugged, unsure and unbothered by a term that meant very little to a god. 

“Can I be responsible for deaths too?” 

“I don’t think so?" Thanatos seemed vaguely guilty about that. "Hades said I was born to be Death. Didn’t he tell you what your task was going to be?”

The question was innocent. A trait of the very young. But the chef didn’t miss the stricken confusion that flashed across Zagreus’s face.

“Father told you what your task was going to be?” It was impossible to miss the hurt in the question. Zagreaus had paused, a half open pod in his hands and wide eyes trained on Thanatos. 

The older boy seemed to realize he’d misstepped...without a complete understanding of how or why.

“No...I mean...he never...sat down to tell me? It was like I always knew what my task would be.” 

The godling was a resilient child and little seemed to throw him off. But even at this young age they could tell that Hades was a distant father, severe in a way that painfully confused Zagreus (and honestly most of the House as well - the boy had never done anything worthy of the scorn that seemed to buffet him). 

Distress passed across Zagreus’s face. “But I don’t know what my task is. Will Father tell me?”

The prince wasn’t on the edge of tears, not quite at least. Thanatos though was deeply sensitive, as eager to make things right as Zagreus was at times.

Peas scattered across the table as Thanatos dropped what he was working on and grabbed Zagreus’s hands urgently. Golden eyes, wide like saucers met the godling’s own.

“Zag, don’t worry...you can help me with deaths. I think mortals die...a lot? At least the line of shades in the main hall never seems to get shorter. I can’t be everywhere at once so you can help!”

It was an honest and uncomplicated offer.

“Really?” Zagreus lit up in joy. 

Thanatos nodded with a wide smile that transformed him into the child he appeared to be.

“Of course.”

Zagreus turned to share this news with the lounge, as if the whole staff hadn’t been eavesdropping.

“Chef! I’m going to help with Death!” The boy’s smile was bright like the nearly forgotten sun and his relief was palpable. The work surface was a mess, scattered pods and peas everywhere but it hardly mattered. Without a single spoken word the shades threw their tools to task, demonstrating their most elaborate skill in celebration.

The approving laughter and shouts from both boys echoed all the way into the main hall.


	3. Chapter 3

The lounge was deserted except for the workings of the kitchen. 

Perhaps that was why the Chef didn’t notice Zagreus at first. There was much to do and pomegranates were tricky, fiddly things to deseed.

The chef glanced up from their work to be startled by mismatched eyes peeking carefully over the edge of their station. When he wanted to the young god could be remarkably like a shade in going unnoticed. 

“Oh,” the child startled in the way one does when caught unawares. “Sorry Master Chef...I just...I wanted to watch you work.”

The Chef peered around briefly in search of a wayward tutor who must surely be in search of Zagreus. He was meant to be with Master Achilles if they weren’t mistaken.

The child instantly noticed the cook’s confusion. “Don’t worry,” he declared with bravado, “Achilles said I could spend the afternoon doing as I please.” A brief flash of the prince’s genuine concern cracked the surface though. “He was...really quiet this morning...I think he was sad about something. I hope he feels better.”

Achilles rarely spoke much beyond surface level conversations with the other shades in the house and it was a bit surprising to hear he’d let his facade slip in front of the prince. But perhaps that was just something that Zagreus was uniquely talented at. The chef had never known anyone who could endear themselves so thoroughly and so quickly to anyone. Many shades had wondered if that was perhaps a part of Zagreus’s yet unknown power.

“Can I help you with making the meal sir?”

The chef smiled internally. Over the years, the boy had flitted from interest to interest as children did. But the prince’s fondness for the kitchen never seemed to waver. Finding simple tasks for godling to help with was never hard.

They weren’t sure quite why today was the day (or night). Maybe it was a hope to distract. Thanatos was away receiving specific training on the mortal surface and Zagreus seemed achingly lonely despite a schedule packed with training of every sort. Perhaps it was the intense way Zagreus watched their work. Or something more selfish. It had been hard to listen to the ever quieting house...children grew up yes and that was the way for even gods it seemed. In some ways they missed the chaos.

With a careful step to one side they gestured for the prince to join them. 

Zagreus was instantly at their side--breathless, eager, and standing on flame filled toes to view the worktop board properly.

“Really?!”

The chef flipped the blade of their knife to tap the wood gently. A pre established code for yes. 

Zagreus beamed with open joy.

Another cook brought a box without delay, perfectly sized to boost the boy so he was at a reasonable height. The chef cleared the thick wood and wiped it down with the efficiency of long practice and drew out a second knife from their collection. Shorter and more manageable for child sized hands they briefly demonstrated safe practices to eager, engaged eyes.

Zagreus grasped the handle as if he’d been gifted one of the armory’s prized possessions--confident and reverent in equal measure. One had to wonder if Achilles had drilled that into him.

The chef had peeled and halved an onion so that the round purple vegetable did not roll around and add more challenge to this first attempt. Taking the other half they demonstrated the basics of slicing slowly and deliberately so Zagreus could follow.

Zagreus’ knifework was uneven and slow...typical of any first time cook. But he was smiling broadly and when the first half of the onion was reasonably diced the prince was eager to go again.

Nyx or Hades could come in at any moment to reign down punishment upon the entire kitchen’s staff for having the godling work. They couldn’t quite care and noticed a few of the shades running one of their more elaborate surveillance schemes to keep an eye out for intruders. They subtly nodded their thanks.

With each vegetable the dicing got a little neater, a little more confident. Zagreus was so clearly happy that the chef wondered not for the first time how this was the son of their Lord.

Once finished with chopping the child heaved messy handfuls of the vegetables into a deep heavy ceramic pot. Zagreus was left to careful stirring while the chef quickly deconstructed some meat and bones to add. 

“Is this good?” Zagreus asked, peering carefully at the sizzling diced onion turning golden brown. There was a quick tap of assurance as they added the meat and bones, indicating that the boy should continue stirring with a quick swirl of their ghostly almost hand. One of the lesser shades supervised as Zagreus eagerly poured the water over their work once the meat had browned.

The meager spices of the kitchen were used to maximum effect until the chef quickly plucked them from the prince’s overly enthusiastic shaking.

“When will it be done sir?”

The chef slid a lid over the simmering pot and stretched their arms as wide as they would go. A LONG time...as all good soups must cook down over low heat to bring out their flavors.

“I wish it wouldn’t take so long,” the boy grumbled.

Patience wasn’t one of the prince's strengths and there wasn’t much room for anyone to hover in the kitchen. 

One of the cooks gently maneuvered the godling onto a stool at the bar so he could keep an eye on his creation without being in the way. Eventually the urge to move was too great and the boy shot off, promising to come back when the soup was finished. 

* * *

Quite honestly they let thoughts of the soup simmering on the stove to the back burner of their mind. Rushes of orders kept all hands on deck, busy and running like a well oiled machine. It wasn’t like the soup would burn; on such a low heat it would only mellow and became richer over time. Several hours passed in what felt like a blink of the eye.

At the end of service the chef finally thought to take a quick taste of the godling’s first efforts.

_“Not bad!”_ They declared to the curious members of the staff.

_“We can’t eat it without him,”_ another shade pointed out. The rest of the kitchen’s shades agreed with enthusiastic gestures.

The hour was late, only Hades in the main hall seemed to be still engaged in work...even the Broker had closed up, a sign hanging over their desk indicating they weren’t available.

_“He should be the first to have some,”_ the chef agreed, _“Cover it up and we’ll keep it till the Prince wakes.”_

Slumping in understanding the shades went back to cleaning. Slinging heavy pots of detritus and wiping every surface to within an inch of its life. 

“Is it done yet?” a sleepy voice asked from the doorway.

The chef was surprised to say the least.

Zagreus looked small in the vast gulf of the door, framed by deep shadows. Someone had put him to bed (it was unclear if the godling needed sleep or simply benefitted from the routine of regular rest that mortals did). The prince had clearly taken his own initiative on the matter sometime after the fact. Too old to drag around blankets or stuffed animals in his own words it was hard to think of the child as anything less than that when a balled up fist scrubbed at one bright green eye.

Multiple shades tossed their heads about in agreement. The Master Chef shot them a sharp look that said they should have _HELD THEIR METAPHORICAL FOOL TONGUES_ to get the child back to bed. 

Honestly...it was like they had never raised children before. 

“Can we try some?” 

Zagreus clearly wasn’t tired now, across the lounge in seconds and back behind the bar among the shades in the kitchen proper.

Poised to say no with a shake of their head and fluffy toque...they simply slumped in agreement when the prince turned his smile on them. Though the chef could resist the whole of the kitchen’s beseeching they had NOTHING on Zagreus’s eager open expression. 

* * *

And that was how Achilles found them: relaxed on boxes and overturned crates, cradling bowls and chunks of the day’s bread. Zagreus was ecstatically trying to communicate and eat his portion at the same time.

The child caught sight of the myrmidon before any else. His wave almost toppled the bowl from his lap and only the quick movements of a round shade kept it from the floor.

"Hi Master Achilles!”

“Where have you been lad?” the shade asked with a worry that would not be out of place on a father. His expression was gentle as he scooped Zagreus from the chef’s lap to cradle against his hip. Critical eyes checked the child for injury before carefully controlled rage filled the glare he shot everyone else.

The chef had had many pleasant interactions with the shade in the past. But when it came to the boy, all bets seemed off.

_“Master Achilles...the prince...”_ half the crew was already backing away, cringing in real fear of the man Achilles had been in life. His reputation preceded him. 

The prince however tilted back precariously to beam at his mentor. “We made soup sir! You should have some, it’s quite tasty. The chef helped me chop up the vegetables and stir so it didn’t burn.”

“Did he now lad?” Achilles indulged with a smile, glancing at the Master Chef who gave an appropriate agreement with the child’s assessment. After all...the kid had done both of those tasks...to a degree.

“Well then I will have to try some of your fine work my prince.”

The boy squirmed down and helped to gather a new bowl and a thick slice of bread. Achilles took a seat, murmuring an almost apology to the rest of the leery staff for the assumptions about what was going on. 

Zagreus’ expression was nervous as the forgotten hero carefully sampled the rustic broth.

There was nothing really to worry about, the chef knew. Achilles adored the prince. It was just a bonus that the soup was in fact quite edible.

“It’s quite good lad. You’re a natural.”

If the laurels adorning Zagreus’ head could somehow spark brighter they did. 

“Thank you sir!”


	4. Chapter 4

Zagreus was not a consistent denizen of the kitchen. While it seemed no one knew what the Prince’s task was...still...Hades insisted on training that filled every corner of the youngster’s schedule.

A visit from the gangly all elbows godling was rare. The chef knew that would be the case...it was highly unlikely Zagreus was a god of the kitchen (they were reasonably certain Hestia did not have any close connection to Hades at least?). All the same, they had come to miss the small warm presence sidled nearby--curious, vibrant and so eager to share themself.

So when the prince sprung behind the bar one early afternoon (or morning) it came as some surprise.

“Hello chef! What’s the special today?”

One would think the Lord of the Dead would have tutored the child in the language of shades, but if he had it never stuck.

Without missing a chopping beat they gestured to the pots simmering on the stove and the large fish that two smaller shades were precariously working on fileting into smaller more manageable sections.

“Smells good,” the boy noted. To be fair, the chef wasn’t sure the kid knew the difference between the Charp and the Crustacean that were on the menu. But Zagreus was generous with compliments and honest to a fault.

They must have raised their eyebrow appropriately for the prince to notice the question they wanted to ask.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to stop by very often. Achilles has been keeping me busy with training. But I wanted to see if I could help with the meal?”

The chef paused to consider. They were loathe to say no to Zagreus, had been ever since the first moments they had met.

There wasn’t anything pressing left to do for the meal that night (or day), as they had not expected the prince to appear. Eager and slightly more competent with a knife now Zagreus wouldn’t be able to keep up with the actual rush.   
However it was a rare night that Hades himself had requested a meal. 

Not to be taken in the lounge of course...probably destined to go cold at the immortal’s elbow. But it did require extra prep; the chef had been planning to cook it themself so as not to interrupt the rest of service. 

In a moment of perhaps lapsed judgement it seemed a brilliant opportunity to let the prince help instead. 

They gestured to a recipe pinned above their station. 

Curious, Zagreus gently detached the parchment to look it over. It was a meal that could be completed with basic techniques and a few more advanced flourishes. There were terms that the young prince was unlikely to know. But the skillset was not beyond him, the chef was reasonably certain of that.

“I can make this?” 

A quick single tap to the cutting board and a step to the side so they could share the space. 

“You’re certain sir? I don’t know what most of these instructions mean.”

Another tap followed by a gesture to the significant amount of items in need of his attention. 

Taking a deep breath the prince glanced almost apprehensively at the toque wearing chef. “Alright then. You’ll let me know if I’m making a complete mess of things...right sir?”

Another quicker tap of agreement that implied get moving, this is a working kitchen and we have hundreds of meals to get out and no time to coddle.

The boy gave a determined nod, squared narrow shoulders and went to work. 

Zagreus’ technique was not perfect and they found themself gently correcting the position of his elbows every so often. But the child was competent enough now to be left without direct supervision and so the chef expedited, controlling the flow of prepped ingredients, meats and sauces being overseen by several cooks.

Eyes focused on the chopping Zagreus asked a question when he sensed there was a moment of quiet.

“Who is this meal for anyways? I thought your kitchen had a strict no substitution policy?”

For a brief moment the chef considered. They could easily lie. Explain as much as they were able that it was for Nyx or perhaps a visiting Charon (their supplier had an uncanny ability to show up during the height of the dinner rush). 

One of the other shades however didn’t think twice before pulling a face. Drawing their brows down in a furrowing frown they spread them self wide in an unmistakable parody of how their lord looked most days. 

A strange mixture of almost apprehension and excitement bled over the prince’s features.

“This is for Father?” He peered critically down at his work, acutely aware of an uneven dice to the onion or a slightly too large slice of potato.

Squaring their sloped shoulders the chef tapped the wood once. Firmly and with confidence they hoped translated to  _ ‘Yes, but you can still do this. I believe in you.’ _

For a long moment, it was hard to tell how the godling felt about that new piece of information. 

Hades had remained a distant, disengaged force in the boy’s life thus far. Not  _ quite _ neglectful, not  _ quite _ cruel but probably both without intending to be either. They’d not heard any arguments between the two, but how long that might last was hard to say. 

Perhaps it was a bit more of their previous life seeping through that it did not surprise or really wound the chef to observe the naked  _ want _ in the depths of mismatched eyes. They could understand in some distant almost forgotten way the longing for a parent’s approval.

What if this wayward idea ended in the kind of brush off the boy had been experiencing for years now? Was it fair to do that to the boy they had all come to love? 

They wore the weight of that worry deeply and wondered if Hades ever did as he labored over endless scrolls.

Zagreus however shook off whatever indecision had swept over him, a tentative prideful grin growing.

“Then if it’s for Father, I’m going to cook this perfectly!” He redoubled his efforts with a vigor Achilles had mentioned fondly over drinks. Once Zagreus put his mind to something there was little that could stop him.

The chef huffed a private sigh of relief. They’d avoided some angst however inadvertently. And he did have faith the prince could do the work. That would have to be enough.

A pile of root vegetables and such steadily disappeared under the godling’s knife. It was admirably and neatly organized; a few of the smaller shades gave approving thumbs up as they brushed by.

That didn’t mean the kitchen's shades weren’t up to a little good natured pranking. So focused on his work the prince didn’t notice when two shades added their own chopping to his pile. When they went to add their third extra pile he caught on.

“Hey! I didn’t agree to do your work for you!” Zagreus gave as good as he got anyway, expertly pitching the extras they tried to sneak onto the workstation right back at the offending party. Grinning the entire time. 

He was confident and snarky in a way that fit well with the shades' varying personalities. The kitchen’s staff was like a pirate crew most days. They easily adopted the prince into their ranks when he was around and were quickly letting him in on their most guarded tricks for getting into trouble or showing off (depending on who was watching).

A loud thunk and a meek ‘sorry sir’ followed minutes later while the chef was in the midst of scolding a runner who had mixed up their third order of the shift. The knife that HAD been in Zagreus’ hand was now lodged halfway across the kitchen, stuck in a wood block at an awkward angle that was clearly not intentional.

Grinning sheepishly, he didn’t blame the two shades who were doing the level best to hide their involvement by chiffonading onions to their base molecules.

The youngster had clearly attempted to put a flourish into his knifework, and they guessed a sword had a much different weight and heft compared to a knife. The chef shook with laughter as they retrieved the blade from the wood. Flipping out their own blade they demonstrated the motion at a slower speed.

“Can I see it again sir?” Zagreus watched hawk-like as the chef slowed and stepped through the motion twice more before the prince managed to demonstrate a wobbly but complete flip and spin of the knife to match their own.

The Master Chef would be sure NOT to mention this newfound skill to Nyx or Hades if they were to ask.

With surprisingly little guidance Zagreus finished the tasks given to him. The chef had to wonder at how often the prince had surreptitiously observed their jobs over the years, quiet and tucked into a corner where no one noticed.

Quick hands helped to plate and finish the dish. This was where the chef’s experience helped the most. But Zagreus was watching that too, adding his own minor flourishes at appropriate instances.

The plate looked even better than the one they usually prepared for their lord. Almost like something one might serve at an opulent feast the chef fantasized about briefly. Impressed was the only adjective they could think of to describe the prince’s efforts.

The confidence Zagreus had shown in preparation seemed to...wane slightly as the godling observed his work.

“He’ll like it...right Master Chef?”

The chef nodded honestly. 

That was likely to be true. 

Assuming the god actually took a bite of it. 

They didn’t know how to convey that concern to the prince and decided that to dampen his enthusiasm would only be cruel.

When they handed off the plate to a runner to take to the main hall...they ordered the shade to place the meal front and center. It was likely to get the shade reprimanded but the chef insisted with the sharpest words they could muster. The pointed glances at the prince were what likely cowed the shade into agreeing.

Zagreus trailed behind the shade into the hall, carefully watching without looking to see the runner carefully place the dish front and center on Hades’ desk. The chef couldn’t hear what the god growled in response; it wasn’t shouted for every corner of the House to hear at least.

The runner raced back into the kitchen and the chef promised the easiest of tasks for the rest of the shift to the trembling stress ball. They’d done well.

It must have been a while before they looked up from their work. Zagreus had found a table to perch at that gave him some sort of view of his father’s desk. Another shade had brought the boy a meal which he’d barely touched.

Clearly his attention was elsewhere.

A quick check among the runners confirmed that he had been there through most of service.  _ ‘Has Hades asked for his meal to be cleared?’ _

_ ‘Not yet,’ _ one shade miserably informed them.

The meal must be a cold brick by now.

Zagreus looked part resigned and part bitterly angry. They sighed internally. That anger wasn’t new but it was taking on a more brittle sharpness these days that worried the chef. They hoped deeply that it wasn’t a sign of things to come.

Flaming feet kicked off the chair and the youngster strode confidently towards the main hall.

Very faintly they caught the prince asking, “Did you enjoy your meal Father?”

The kitchen stilled visibly to listen. But whatever response the god made, it was low enough and the chatter of other diners loud enough that it wasn’t heard. A few minutes later, a visibly upset Zagreus came back into the kitchen, bearing the plate in hand.

A few bites had been taken of the meal, but it was far from finished.

The godling carefully put the plate down, clearly fighting an urge to slam it or make a scene. Zagreus swallowed some heavy emotion that he shouldn’t have had to.

His voice was small. 

“He must not have liked it very much.” 

The chef pulled at the youngster’s shoulder until Zagreus glanced up at the firmly shaking toque that said no in the only way they could. 

If only they could be understood beyond gestures.

“It’s okay Master Chef. I had a good time helping you regardless. His loss right?”

The sheepish way he pulled himself together hid the anger and grief well. The chef ached to grab the boy into a hug regardless. But that had never been a part of their relationship and even if they wanted to break with tradition, Zagreus was suddenly halfway across the lounge. Scooping up plates the runners had not gotten to yet and bringing them back to the dishwasher’s station.

The chef was sure not to look too closely at the state of the boy’s eyes when he circled back to their side several minutes later. His voice had a very mild wobble to it, but was mostly steady.

“Do you think Cerberus would like the leftovers?” 

The chef nodded swiftly...aside from the bones the hound refused to touch the three headed beast would eat anything. Enthusiastically. One of the cooks was quick to snatch up the half eaten plate; this particular shade was wizard with open flames. The dish came back to life under their swift efforts.

Zagreus took the meal himself back out into the main hall. Head high, spine straight and expression determined as he strode defiantly past his father’s throne.

“Hey boy! I brought you something. You’ll love it.”

And indeed, minutes later the godling returned bearing a plate licked clean and sporting a fiercely proud, rebellious grin that threatened to split his face in two. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So these are gonna get a little angstier while I try to craft a mild narrative arc from a bunch of fundamentally fluff one shots. I have about 4 or 5 more of these in mind thus far. Apologies that they may take a while to come...I’m back at work so my free time is a bit more limited than it was when I started this series. Thanks so much for taking the time to read, comments are always welcome.


End file.
